


'Til the End of Time

by Cyanidal



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyanidal/pseuds/Cyanidal
Summary: Even when it came to soulmates, destiny never smiled upon everyone. Sometimes she chose to bare her teeth and grin like the devil, forsaking those under her gaze. They weren't exempt from her wrath.At the end of it all, he knew someone was going to get hurt, and he couldn't do a damn thing.
Relationships: Biffa/Xisuma (Mentioned), impulseSV/Tango Tek (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	'Til the End of Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boneblock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boneblock/gifts).



> Not me over here, writing a new story while not updating my other fic-  
> I'm sorry but I had an idea and ran with it. This timeline does not match Hermitcrafts so it may seem a little confusing at first; apologies if it does.
> 
> Also, I made a playlist so if you want to know where I got inspiration from, it's at the end, though it's only 6 songs right now.
> 
> Anyway, for my friend, who dragged me into everything ZIT related- I give you Tangpulse, but make it angsty; part 1 of 5

Soulmates were a confusing and delicate thing. One moment your world would be full of grey tones, something everyone has known from birth, and the next it would be full of bright hues and overwhelming vibrancy. If you weren’t careful, too caught up in the suddenness of it all, you may miss or forget the reason for the change. Forget the why in the messy confusion. Chances were, if you missed it, you'd never find it again.  
  
This left most people with two options; either wander through the worlds in search of their soulmate or make the harsh decision to ignore the universe's matchmaking. The decision to ignore what was supposed to be and settle down with someone else in the monotone atmosphere. While it wasn't their fate, they'd make the most of it.  
  
Of course, not everyone could pick just one or the other; and that’s where Hermitcraft came into play.  
  
It started as a group of people who wanted to experience life to the fullest without the risk that came with soulmates. The world was programmed specifically to grant color vision to its occupants, as close as possible to the accuracy of the true colors. It was temporary, the effect would disappear as soon as a member logged out to the main hub, but it was enough to bring join to those in the world.  
  
In all its years, members had come and gone. Many just stopped in to get a taste of what could be, leaving when their flame of hope was rekindled, finding their passion to search for their destined lover again. Others would leave out of heartbreak, painfully reminded of what they could never have through the facade of colors. They were the ones rarely heard from again.  
  
There were a few people though who’d stuck around since the very beginning, a select few who could be called permanent residents. Only one of those four had ever found their counterpart, and they were content with that. They had found friendship, even a relationship for one of them, through the server. It was enough.  
  
Except for Xisuma.  
  
Their admin was generally upbeat, always chipper in a quiet and subtle kind of way. Always willing to lend a hand or offer up some advice. Yet every year, come the first winds of the winter season, he’d change drastically. He’d fall quiet around others and could be found walking aimlessly around the shopping district. Sometimes he’d be perched high on the HEP tower, staring out to the sea silently. His eyes held a perpetual sorrow that most of the other hermits, old or new, could never come to understand. The only hermit who truly understood what the young admin was going through was Joe, who would never break his promise of secrecy to X.  
  
“It’s hard,” Joe had told a couple of the hermits once after a very uncharacteristic outburst from Xisuma, “to remember the things you once had. The people you once knew. Only to be reminded that will never be a reality again. Be reminded of someone they'll never see again.”  
  
Joe had always been there, residing by Xisuma’s side through the years. Joe had been the one Xisuma had run to, nearly taking the door off the hinges with the way he burst through. The poor man was startled, their admin - specifically their new admin, at the time - barging in with tears streaming, helmet nowhere in sight. It wasn’t like him to bust down a door without at least a warning, but X had spoken before he could say a word  
  
“Biffa,” He’d whispered the name breathlessly, as if in awe, and Joe had realized the tears were not of despair, “He…It’s him. I met him at spawn and...everything is so much more vibrant. Joe, it’s wonderful I-” He trailed off as his eyes drifted back to Biffa, who stood a bit back behind him. His eyes were full of something Joe couldn't put his finger on, but it was something fond.  
  
Back then, the colors of the server hadn't been as close to perfect as they were now with Xisuma's work of the years. When he'd met Biffa back then it had suddenly changed, and it had changed drastically. The colors bright and overwhelming all at once for both hermits, so much more vivid than before. It was beautiful.  
  
Joe had just smiled, pulling Xisuma into a hug and ruffling his hair gently as X laugh-cried. He’d watched Biffa stand awkwardly in his door frame, the new hermit seemingly overwhelmed himself. Joe caught his eye and smiled gently, gaining a small laugh from Biffa. It’d been a wonderful thing to witness, knowing this was never the intention or outcome Xisuma had planned when he took over the server’s duties. It hadn't been expected, but it wasn't unwelcomed.   
  
It’d been great until it suddenly wasn’t.  
  
It had been a standard trip Biffa took every winter season, a brief visit home to see family. It’d only been meant to be a week just as it’d always been, but when a week stretched into two and then four, X became increasingly distraught and the rest of the server confused and concerned. Joe kept telling Xisuma he should take a break, go visit the world himself but the admin had refused.  
  
“He’ll be back. He has to be Joe," Xisuma tugged his helmet off, short hair sticking out in every direction. He looked up at Joe with a sad expression and the poet felt his heart pang - he'd never seen his friend look quite so lost, "He has to come back."  
  
That was when he knew X had never looked.  
  
The thing with knowing your soulmate was it brought inevitable heartbreak in a way those without couldn’t comprehend. Seeing the colors your soulmate brought to you were amazing, but there was a downside as there was with everything in life. A small tattoo on the person’s left wrist with a number that displayed the years left, changing annually as one could expect. In the last year, it'd change to the number of days, counting down coming every morning.   
  
It’s the biggest reason people without soulmates avoid large gatherings. Seeing colors without knowing who was the cause was painful without a doubt, knowing you’d just barely missed your partner. But it gave you a visible time limit and that was a scary idea. No one lives forever, but it becomes a new kind of terror knowing how much time you have left to live.  
  
It becomes a new fear when you don't know how much your other half has left, but knowing they can now see it.  
  
So Joe knew, in the moment of X’s adamant refusal to go off-world, he’d never looked at Biffa’s wrist. He’d chosen not to acknowledge the time on his partner's wrist in the blind hope it was as long as his own. To anyone else, it would seem foolish, but to Joe, it made sense. 'Live each day like it's your last' seemed a little too accurate now, as he watched his friend slowly come undone.   
  
When the letter came, it wasn’t a surprise to anyone, but it still destroyed Xisuma in the end.  
  
It was a letter from a friend of Biffa’s, someone from his hometown. There had been an accident between a delayed world update and the unfortunate timing of an enderpearl. He’d been mid teleport when the world had stuttered, just a moment, as the update caught up with itself, but it’d been enough. The writer spared the Gorey details but that wouldn’t save Xisuma from the image. The details Xisuma had to know because it was his duty, his self promise, to protect his hermits. ~~_Just as it had been to protect Biffa  
_~~  
It’d been years since then; Xisuma had recovered after a very long time, but the wound was reopened every year. When the anniversary came around he could be found curled in Joe’s bed, the older hermit wrapped carefully around him. Joe was the only one Xisuma trusted enough to go to during those times, and he was the only hermit who really knew all of the details. If anyone were to find them like that, they never dared to disturb the two.  
  
When the snow would begin to melt and the flowers would begin to reappear, X would slowly become himself again, as though nothing had ever happened. The only evidence anything was wrong would be the subtle twitch when he heard mention of a hermits off-world break. It was an unspoken rule that you simply don't ask.  
  
Other than the sad case of Xisuma, no one there had really met their soulmate.   
  
Until now that is.  
  
It wasn’t long after Tango joined that Impulse had gone off-world briefly. He hadn’t noticed until his off-world trip that the colors weren’t fake anymore; they never faded when he left the server. They were real and vibrant and _shit_. Tango had been the only new member since his last off-world trip and he certainly didn't see any colors then. That left only one thing. A quick look at his wrist was a painful confirmation, a bold _six years_ residing on his wrist. How he hadn't noticed was uncertain, but if he had to guess, the watch in his pocket was to blame. It didn't matter now though, it was there and it was real.  
  
Impulse knew telling Tango was the right thing to do when he returned but he couldn’t find the words. So he never did.  
  
When Tango went off-world a couple of years later for a family reunion, something he’d never done up until then, he knew he was doomed. Sure enough, the first thing out of Tango’s mouth upon return was that he could see colors. Real colors, not just the facade by the server.   
  
“How?” He questioned, voice carefully steady.  
  
“I don’t know!” Tango was all over the place, pacing his room, “I joined the hub and the colors never faded. I knew Xisuma said the colors were nearly exact so, I thought maybe I was imagining it, you know? So I joined the world to see and it never faded there either, not even one. Impy, I have soulmate!"  
  
The redstoner had to chuckle at that, “You say that like you weren’t sure you had one.”  
  
The tips of Tango's ears turned a bit pink at that, “You know what I mean! Either way, I don’t know even know who it is or when it happened...I don't see my wrist enough. Long sleeves and all and with the colors being so accurate I never saw a difference. Xisuma was right when he said he'd worked the accuracy I guess. Still, you wouldn't have any idea, would you?"  
  
Impulse did know and his heart gave a gentle pang at that - it took everything to shake his head no with a shaky smile. The _three years_ left on his wrist burned as he lied and it felt so wrong. He hated lying as a whole but the look on Tango's face, of sadness, made him hurt. It felt like Tango was disappointed in his lying, and while Impulse knew that wasn't why it still left him feeling guilty. So, he did the only thing he could think of to distract himself and comfort his friend.  
  
Tango let out an undignified squeak as he was yanked into a hug but quickly recovered, wrapping his arms around Impulse. It was comfortable, even as Impulse's internal fight continued on. He refused to dwell on his hurt as they pulled apart, Tango grinning up at him.  
  
“I’ll be fine. I’ve gone this long anyway, who needs a darn soulmate,” His toothy smile, full of fangs and complete happiness as he stuck his tongue out ever so slightly at Impulse, melted the redstoner to the core. The fondness in Tango's eyes was so pure and unbridled, leaving Impulse wanted to be the cause of every smile like that, "Besides, I have you by my side Impy. What else do I need?"  
  
The taller hermits thoughts came to a stop with just a single word in his mind, _Fuck._ _  
_ _  
_ Impulse was careful to keep his voice steady, “You are ridiculous Tango. Have you checked how long you have left?”  
  
“Yeah, it was the first thing I did. Couldn’t help myself.”  
  
He beamed as he rolled up his sleeve, holding his hand out the Impulse. Written on Tangos' arm, in neat writing, is _42 years_. Impulse's breath catches softly as he stares. It's everything to smile at his friend and Tango is back to being bouncy on his feet, grinning, not even noticing a difference in the atmosphere.   
  
“It’s not as long as I would’ve liked but, well, I’m not a spring chicken anymore I guess," Tango states with a shrug.  
  
Impulse forces a light laugh at that, mumbling something resembling agreement toward a now mock offended Tango. But his heart isn’t in it nor is his mind. Tango said he doesn’t care but Impulse knows a lie when he hears one; Tango just doesn’t care at the moment. He’s never going to let it go completely, it’s not in his nature.  
  
And it'll be the death of them both.  
  
Later that night, when Impulse is back home and alone, he shouldn’t be wanting. But he does and it leaves him more distraught than he’d ever been. He wants what he refuses to allow himself because he knows it'll just hurt them both in the end. Still, his heart wants what it can't have, but Impulse knows it's not just because Tango's his soulmate. No, he wants, craves, because it’s _Tango_. It's his friend, who he knows 101 things about, and could write a book full of all Tango's small quirks that Impulse has grown so fond of.  
  
His friend, who tends to get distracted by little things, disappearing from Impulse’s side at random intervals and returning with some rock or leaf. His friend, who gives a shy smile as he hands the item of interest to Impulse stating it was a something shiny kind of moment. His friend, who has a shelf in Impulses base that he doesn't know of, just above the bed, because Impulse cherishes every silly item handed to him. His friend, whose signature smile full of teeth and complete joy makes his heart soar.  
  
His best friend, who he knows and cares about so deeply it leaves his chest aching at the idea of hurting him. It leaves him curled under his blankets and in so much misery a sword through the chest might hurt less.  
  
It's Tango, who he knows he'd have come to love without ever needing the universe to demand it so.  
  
But it was only destined to hurt them both; the numbers on his wrist were proof enough of that.  
  
A thought comes to mind, and he isn't sure from where it came. He doesn't know the details, he never will, but now he can't help but wonder. Can't help but wonder if maybe Xisuma’s soulmate had felt this same heartache. Knowing his untimely demise was just drawing ever near. Did he feel the same agony knowing his partner would be left behind? Did he feel the same fire in his heart knowing his partner would be torn apart, cursing the universe itself? Did he feel the same hopelessness in his heart knowing there was nothing that could be done?  
  
Impulse could only assume so.  
  
He slept that night, restless and uneasy, dreams filled with various outcomes of what if’s. What if he had more time? What if he had it all wrong and it wasn't Tango? What if time stopped altogether? What if he just told the truth? _What if he hadn't fallen so in love, despite knowing what's to come?_ _  
  
_In every dream, every outcome, every scenario, someone is left behind, heartbroken and devastated.  
  
When Impulse wakes in the early morning hours, painfully breathless with cheeks still damp from tears, he knows there’s no denying it now. Stumbling outside, he watched the clouds from atop his base.  
  
Someone is going to get hurt, it’s the inevitable end that’s been cursed upon them both. Impulse screams once, loud and angry and full of sorrow into the sky as the tears fall anew.  
  
Only the morning birds return his call.

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJ4Jnw0m5jHNwT-nzjmTG54nWddGLNXw1


End file.
